I spent yesterday in Columbus, OH. Literally, just the day: a car whisked me to the airport at 5:45am and returned me home at 10pm. In between were meetings and airport challenges. Oh, and a fun experience that made me feel like I was over the hill.
Because of issues at LaGuardia airport, I ended up flying home a a puddle jumper. It was a teeny, tiny plane. As I sat down I turned to my seat mate and commented, "Wow, I am relatively small and I feel uncomfortable." She responded, "I am 12, I am just big for my age." Okay, not exactly relevant, but definitely true. She was twice my size. Turns out she was flying to New York to meet her dad for the first time.
A really nice, sweet girl, we talked most of the flight. She told me she was a seventh grader and I asked what books she was reading in English class (I have an 18-month old, I am not used to talking to more mature children, what can I say?). I then told her that we read "The Outsiders" and "Johnny Tremain" when I was in 7th grade. She looked at me blankly. "I guess it was a while ago, I was in 7th grade in 1988." Her response was that she was BORN in 1995.
In case that didn't make me feel like an old fogey, she went on to tell me that her parents were YOUNGER than me. I felt nauseous. And it had nothing to do with being pregnant or on an uncomfortable flight.